


you take me over you're the magic in my veins

by vertigo



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Consent is Sexy, Explicit Sexual Content, Jean is a blessing, M/M, Post-Canon, Trans Aaron Minyard, Trans Male Character, jean and aaron are nerds, this is soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:34:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27168706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vertigo/pseuds/vertigo
Summary: "Six more songs," Aaron whispers, focusing back on his game. "Six more songs and you find us a good reason to get out of here."
Relationships: Jean Moreau/Aaron Minyard, Kevin Day/Jeremy Knox
Comments: 9
Kudos: 64





	you take me over you're the magic in my veins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [djhedy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/djhedy/gifts).



> This is my very belated birthday to my beautiful and wonderful [hedy-boo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/djhedy)! I hope you like it boo! It's still your birthday on Mars!!!
> 
> As usual, I have to thank [jenn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowObsidian/) for being an awesome beta all the remaining mistakes are mine.

_Are you going back to South Carolina?_

**No. Kevin convinced Coach we needed to stay.**

_How come? I thought you had a flight scheduled._

**Don't ask me. Kevin is the guy who arranged two expo games just because he was horny for Jeremy.**

_Are you coming to celebrate our win and your loss?_

**Kevin said team spirit today is mandatory. I think he just wants to have celebration sex with Jeremy.**

_That does not answer my question, Aaron._

**Yes. Unfortunately.**

_Jeremy's family rented Father's Office, you should come._

**They rented a whole restaurant?**

_Stop stalling and come already. I don’t know if I can stand that much noise the whole night and I need an excuse to go home earlier._

Aaron chuckles, closing Whatsapp and looking at the rest of his teammates, swimming in a mix of sadness due to their second place and happiness because no other team deserved this year's trophy more than the Trojans. Even Kevin, the usual Debbie Downer, is smiling from ear to ear-- and Aaron can and will attribute that to the fact that his stupid boyfriend and stupid favorite team won. 

The Foxes move at Wymack's orders, shepherded into Ubers so they can enjoy the night, if they wish. Most of the freshmen chose to stay behind, so it’s the original team chattering away on their route to Father's Office. Aaron takes his time to ponder what he will do tonight; under regular circumstances he would nurse their loss with copious amounts of alcohol and mindless sad sex music at Eden's, but they are miles from Columbia, lost to the swaying palm trees and billboards of Los Angeles. It's a good change of scenery; everyone looks mildly happy and ready for a raucous night with the Trojans.

He stares as they walk into the laughter and cheer of tonight's champions. The laughter only increases when Jeremy finds his boyfriend waiting for him by the door and flips a few chairs in his haste, jumping into Kevin’s arms and kissing him senselessly. Aaron hears the shutters of cameras, whoops of delight from drunk Trojans and sober Foxes, and chooses to ignore it, moving instead to sit by Jean's side.

The last time they were this close, Andrew chased him with murder eyes and a knife he’d pocketed from one of the tables. This time, his brother doesn't pay attention to him, much more concerned about Neil's sad loser shoulder slump than watching over his twin.

Which is perfectly fine in his opinion. Jean already has a cold beer waiting for him, a plate of sweet potato fries with aioli and some delicious bites of pork Al Pastor. Aaron thanks him with a nod and takes a sip from his beer. "It's good, you have good taste."

Jean himself is sipping on a glass of chardonnay, picking one of the fries and dipping it in aioli sauce. "Hmhm. Did you finish The Stranger?"

"On the plane, yes." Aaron says, dirtying his fingers in another bite of the beautiful pork in front of them. "It’s weird that it was such a controversial book by the time it came out."

Jean swirls his wine, sipping on it as if he has all the time in the world to ruminate his answers. "It has to do with the impact in a generation where happiness was the goal. To have such a detached narrator that only feels free through death was very controversial back then." They lapse into silence, digging into the food piling up on their table: shrimp, chorizo, more french fries. Their teammates are caught up in a whirlwind of laughter, and Jeremy is proclaiming that he wants to see at least four people drink so much they'll hug their toilets tonight while he lights up a cigar.

And then promptly chokes on it. Aaron watches his brother pick it up, complaining about the waste of a good Cohiba. By his side, Jean shakes his head, refilling his glass and taking another slow sip. "What are we going to read next?"

Aaron turns around to face Jean and it never fails to take his breath away: the way his black hair has longer strands on the top and is shorter on the sides, how the California sun has made the few freckles over his nose stand out and overthrow the ugly tramp stamp on his face and how his eyes are this rare shade of blue that can only be described as a stormy sky focusing on him and him only. He truly is a lucky man. "I'm tired of classics, can we try something modern? A bit lighter? I've seen nice reviews on Good Omens."

"Oh Aaron," Jean groans, twirling a sweet potato fry in his stupid long and elegant fingers. "You really want to read Neil Gaiman? Neil Gaiman writes as if he's masturbating to Neil Gaiman writing." Aaron snorts, picking up a piece of shrimp and eating it. "How about we try The Gospel of Loki?"

"Sounds good."

They lapse in silence once more, observing their teammates. For most people, silence can be maddening, but for them? Silence it's a language itself in which they found their common ground more than a year ago.

The story goes like this:

Back when Jean had two black eyes, a concussion and so many other injuries that Abby couldn't look without crying first, the Foxes were recruited to stay by his side in some sort of suicide watch so Abby could get out of the house for occasional respite. Aaron's turn, like everyone else's (save Renee) was filled with silence; except he heard Jean muttering under his breath while playing sudoku and suddenly a door was opened. He couldn't be a bad person, right? Sudoku players are the chillest people on earth. 

Then, on his following shift, he watched as Jean squirmed and grumbled (common occurrence back then, since he was more wounds than man) about the TV. Aaron opened his backpack and unceremoniously dropped his Kindle on Jean's lap. They didn't exchange a word, but Aaron could see the gratitude in those stormy eyes.

The next time he was there, he talked Jean through an exchange of bandages about The Great Gatsby. Apparently during his time in the cult he never had full access to books, and with Aaron's Kindle (which was loaded with books from his dramatic years) Jean started dipping his toes into literature.

Fast forward six months of WhatsApp discussions about classics and sudoku and Aaron received a message saying Jean and Renee had broken up. Which was weird. The good part of his relationship with Jean was the impersonal tone of it-- they never talked about feelings, their pasts, or Exy. He and Jean existed in a pocket outside of their chaotic lives and when they were alone in their conversations, they were who they wanted to be.

The single message of heartbreak was enough to change the dynamic between them. Somewhere down the line they traded written messages for long late night calls, which were gradually replaced with video calls. Aaron got a glimpse of Jean's life, better now. Jean got a glimpse of his life, still the same old hell, especially after he and Katelyn were done.

Fast forward again, to Kevin's dumb expensive exy-excuse for a booty call. Aaron had known there was something brewing,of course, but he’d ignored it. That is until he was forced to share the same space with Jean. Until he looked into those damn stormy eyes.

And gave in.

They didn't go any further than kissing that night, sprawled in bed, one pillow blocking their loins from touching as Jean pulled him apart, kiss by slow kiss.

The pillow hadn't help much in the morning though, Aaron woke up with the glorious feeling of Jean's morning erection pressing against his ass just right.

Too bad they’d had a flight back to South Carolina.

"Got lost?" he snaps out of his walk down the memory lane to look at Jean. He looks good, wearing a soft lavender polo and jeans. He also looks tired-- not the weary beaten up kind of weary Aaron saw firsthand, but the kind of tired that comes from satisfaction and accomplishment. The bone deep feeling of winning and _earning_ it.

"A bit, yes," Aaron says, finishing his warm beer and picking up the menu to order another one. "Just thinking."

"Looked like good thoughts." Jean hums, eating another shrimp. Aaron had gotten so lost he didn't even realize the change in the music, but he’s returned spectacularly to the present as he watches his cousin and Alvarez sing along at a breakneck speed to some song in Spanish. 

Aaron orders another beer, moving his right hand to rest on top of Jean's thigh and drumming it to the rhythm of their off key song. "Good thoughts,” he affirms. “Can we leave now or do you need to bask in the glory of being champion for a little longer?" Jean chuckles around his chardonnay, swirling it and smelling the drink before taking another infinitesimal sip.

"Give them ten more songs and we can leave." Content with his answer, Aaron removes his hand from Jean's thigh and rummages around his pockets for his phone, pulling up the sudoku app. He feels Jean watching and whispering the numbers in French while he tries to solve it. He enjoys the game, but he's still a bit slow at it. He ignores the chaos around him in favor of tracing his fingers against the screen.

"Would it kill you to be a little bit sociable?" Nicky asks from across the table, sweaty and energetic like he just found his place. "Aaron. Aaron. _Aaron_."

"What?" He pauses his game, watching Nicky's sweaty face and large smile staring back at him.

"At least get up and play some pool! You like pool!"

Aaron grumbles, unpausing his game and picking at one of the freshly delivered smoked eels. "If you’d pulled your weight tonight, maybe my legs wouldn't be this sore and I would be able to play some pool." 

Nicky blows him a raspberry and squeaks as Alvarez jumps on his back to hold his neck from behind. "Leave them alone, Esteban! Those two are gloomier than Gothyard!" Aaron watches as Nicky moves his arms, lifting Alvarez in a piggy back ride. "Even Gothyard is having fun… even if his definition of fun is doing that creepy evil chuckle thing at everything Jeremy and Kevin do."

Aaron’s head turns to find his brother, and sure enough, Andrew is smirking around his cigar as Jeremy and Kevin play a match of improvised beer pong. Neil is sitting on his lap, a contented smile replacing the sour loser look he’d been sporting earlier. Nicky follows Aaron’s gaze and croons, "Oh those two are so in love… Aaron one day you’ll find a love like that and it will be magical."

"Hmhm." He pokes Jean on his side, feeling him chuckling around his pricey chardonnay. 

"Oh, Guadalupe!" Nicky says, jostling Alvarez on his back, "they're playing Selena!" They turn around like this jock megazord to get lost in the music, leaving the table blissfully empty, except for Aaron, Jean and a very sleepy Laila.

"Six more songs," Aaron whispers, focusing back on his game. "Six more songs and you find us a good reason to get out of here."

Jean laughs, a tiny subdued sound that only Aaron can pick up amongst the insane chattering. "I promise you," he says, reaching out to place his hand on Aaron's thigh and draw tiny circles with his thumb, then turns to say"you didn't tell your cousin about us?"

"The Foxes are still betting on how long it takes for Nicky to see it. The other day he gave me a pamphlet on how to deal with homophobia when you're out of the church." He shakes his head, watching his cousin impersonate a mechanical bull with Alvarez on his back. 

"Were you?"

"Hm?"

"Homophobic?"

Aaron shrugs, frowning at the new game of sudoku. "No. It was just Nicky. Nicky is the type of person who has no filter. Both him and Erik are creepy in that way. He has no boundaries and that always bothered me." He drinks his beer, pretending he's not feeling Jean's eyes burning his face. "Saying they want to have sex with everyone. Even with Neil saying no, for example, Nicky kept bugging him. Back then I didn't know what had happened to Andrew," Aaron drops his phone, running his hand over his face and sighing deeply, "but I knew my brother enough to know that it bothered him. Also sex? Sex is not something meaningless that you flaunt around. Not in my view. Sex is something between you and your partner." 

Jean hums again, moving his hand from Aaron's thigh to his knee. "Sounds interesting. What other opinions do you have about sex?"

He tries not to let the flush creep on his face, picking up his phone and focusing on his game instead. "Slightly confused ones. I'm not repulsed by it, but also not hyper fixated like Nicky. If everyone is agreeing to it, and if it happens organically then I'm okay with it. I have a few hiccups here and there but mostly I'm comfortable with it."

"Hiccups?"

"Issues. That we can discuss _if_ the occasion calls for it." Jean squeezes his knee, and it's such a simple, affectionate and understanding gesture that Aaron shudders. "You?"

"Same as you. Issues that I don't think I will have _if_ the occasion calls for it." 

Aaron looks down at the hand on his knee. Jean has long beautiful fingers and most of them are decorated with bold rings. On most people a big marble ring with Apollo's head would look awful, but there it is, in marble and gold decorating his index finger; there's a pause with naked and and scarred middle fingers, and then three thin back bands equidistant on his pinkie. Aaron is about to look at the hand holding the chardonnay glass when the weight on his knee lessens as Jean lifts his hand up.

"Five on the far right." Jean pokes his phone, putting the last number in place before the balloons of victory float on the screen.

"Let me win a game alone for once, Jean." He hears the laughter from Jean as he starts a new game. Aaron can feel his eyelids drooping, and now that the hype of the championship game has passed he can recognize the aches and pains of playing like his life depended on it. He just wants to get home. 

Aaron closes his eyes, locking his phone and leaning his head against Jean's bicep. It's not the most comfortable way to fall asleep, but he feels secure. His brother is around somewhere, his friends are having fun and Jean is very economical with his movements, so he doesn't get jostled around when he submits to a nap. He's actually enjoying his nap when someone snaps a picture, the flash of their camera going off without them wanting to, startling Aaron awake. 

He opens his eyes and stares down at none other than his team captain. "Honestly, it’s the first time I’ve ever thought of you as cute. Couldn't miss the chance,” Dan grins. Aaron bottles down the words in his mouth in favor of rubbing his eyes. All around him the party is still going strong, a rowdy mix of Foxes and Trojans drinking and being generally too loud for one night. Dan moves away with her camera - presumably to find someone else to bother - and Aaron stretches.

"I think it's time to go. We’ve stayed as long as is socially acceptable and things are toeing the ridiculous line now." Jean points out with his phone to where Matt is trying to teach Garcia how to box. Aaron nods, cracking his neck and stands up to follow Jean as he bids his teammates goodbye.

Predictably, team captain and resident human disaster Jeremy Knox drapes himself all over Jean. Aaron can see the flush on his face and turns to Kevin who - for once in his lifetime - is nursing a glass of orange juice and looks completely sober. He lifts up an eyebrow and Kevin shrugs in response. "I’m responsible for Jeremy tonight."

"Jean. Jean. I love you." Both Aaron and Kevin turn to watch Jeremy clinging to Jean, rubbing his face against his chest as if he was a large cat. "You're the best. The best backliner. You were so good tonight. You always are but tonight you were like… so great." Jean pats his head pitifully, probably used to a mumbling intoxicated Jeremy. "Stay,” he continues with a slur, “we have to celebrate being champions!"

"This is my fourth championship, Jeremy. I think I'm good." 

Jeremy curls his nose in disgust, his hand coming up to cover the number three inked on Jean's sharp cheekbone as if that alone is an answer. "We should have tattooed your Trojan here instead of doing it on your…"

"Jeremy," Jean warns and Aaron watches as Jeremy giggles, hugging him tight as a new song begins. 

"OH STAY! THIS IS OUR SONG!" Jeremy cries. Aaron watches as Trojans in different states of intoxication sing along to _We are the Champions_ while the servers look on, a mix of desperation and distress on their faces, and Nicky hoists Alvarez to stand on one of the tables. Aaron notes with appreciation that somewhere in the back, someone has replaced losers for Ravens and he knows the sentiment is echoed when the Foxes join in the chorus.

Jean is rolling his eyes fondly, swaying with a drunken Jeremy to the song, and probably getting his eardrum split by his enthusiastic singing. The song comes to an end among triumphant hoots from most of the participants and Jean releases Jeremy to kiss Kevin senselessly.

Gross.

"I'm going, Jere," Jean says, and Jeremy gives him a thumbs up while simultaneously trying to find Kevin's tonsils with his tongue.

Jeremy pulls away momentarily and says "Don't forget the Lucky Pot!"before going back to making out with Kevin, clinging to him as if he could climb him like a tree. Aaron and Jean turn around and suddenly there's Laila Dermott, materialized out of thin air in front of them. She looks mildly sober, but the blush across her face tells them she's had enough.

"Take Hector home. He's had enough," is all that she manages to say before Alvarez sweeps her off of her feet.

"Who's Hector?"

Jean nods to a caramel colored dog chewing a toy in a corner; it looks like a mix between several breeds, wearing his own Trojan jersey with the number one printed on the back. Aaron looks at Jean and he shrugs, picking up the leash from a table nearby and ushering Hector to come outside into the smothering LA air. "You have a dog?"

"It's the Trojans’. The first captain of the team adopted a street dog and called it Hector. We're just continuing the tradition."

Aaron messes with his phone, finding an Uber that was also agreeable to animals on their ride. "Why didn't I see him last time?"

"Hector likes to stay in Miller's room. He likes cuddling." They both watch as Hector sniffs everything around and barks at another dog. "And since I share a room with Laila and Alvarez, both cat lovers..."

"Got it. Are they sharing the room with us tonight?" Jean shakes his head, picking up Hector when their uber arrives. Aaron becomes responsible for the dog, since Jean has to take the front seat due to his stupidly long legs. "So… Noone else?"

"They're going to a hotel downtown, Laila wanted a night without everyone else walking into our room." 

He scratches Hector's ear, watching it flop on his lap, his tongue lolling out as he relaxes. "Does that happen a lot?"

"It's bound to. We live in a fraternity, sometimes privacy is a luxury you can't afford. The Trojans act like this big family and the frat is their house." Aaron nods, playing with Hector's floppy ears until he's shaking his leg. "Before you ask, no, Jeremy is not the mother. He's the weirdly protective younger brother who likes to check on you during the night." Aaron snorts. The Foxes, protective as they are, would never walk into his room to check on him. Well, maybe Andrew, but he can see his brother knocking on the door first.

"But tonight he's staying in his room, right?" 

Jean scoffs fondly and Hector barks by his side."I give him two hours until he passes out from exhaustion. You can stop here." The driver does, hitting the end button on their ride as they both leave the car with an enthusiastic Hector who keeps pulling Aaron along. Jean holds on to the leash, giving it two tugs so he falls in step with them. Aaron looks up at Jean, confused; if he's not mistaken they're still two blocks away from the frat house. "Hector needs his pee walk before he sleeps. Otherwise he will wake everyone up by scratching at our doors."

Aaron lifts an eyebrow, following Jean's sedated pace along the street. Hector sniffs and pees three times before they arrive at their destination. The house looks weird, decorated with Trojan flags and strings of twinkle lights that bathe the whole place in an ethereal golden glow. Behind the gates there's an inflatable bouncing castle - in Trojan colors, obviously - surrounded by exy balls and other stray balls. "Don't you guys ever clean?"

"Once a year we have a deep clean. It's an awful day, heaps of clothes to be washed, endless bags of mysterious trash, people finding out they 'misplaced' their favorite shirt in someone else's wardrobe." Jean says, unlocking the front gates and unclipping Hector's leash to set him free to run around the lawn. "That's how we found Jeremy's secret stash of his and Kevin's pathetic love letters."

He lifts one eyebrow. The Foxes are usually clean; his former dorm room was mostly spotless due to Kevin's penchant for stress-cleaning and his current dorm is clean since he also has a tendency to clean when he’s stressed. "Letters?"

"Thousands. Pictures. Dumb tickets, scores for both of their games. Once we even found a Foxes' Jersey shoved in the back of his wardrobe. Alvarez didn't stop giving him shit about his _boyfriend shirt_ for a week." Aaron laughs, leaving his shoes by the door as he watches Hector happily sniff the furniture and flop on his doggy bed. By his side, Jean is turning on the lights, bathing the whole house in another healthy golden glow from some lamps. 

"Follow me," he say, and Aaron does, one hand enveloped in Jean's big fingers as they walk upstairs without having to worry about their footsteps waking anyone else. Jean's room is one of the last ones - spacious, with two big twin beds side by side.

"Uh. That must make for some awkward times for you with Laila and Alvarez." 

Jean shrugs, opens his drawers and starts rummaging around. 

"Laila usually drapes a tie on the door so I know to sleep on the couch. I think this is the only thing that will fit you,” Jean says, throwing Aaron a large, soft shirt. “I can try to look through Laila's wardrobe for pants." 

It's Aaron's turn to shrug, turning the shirt over and over in his hands. The boyfriend shirt echoes in his head and he wants to beat himself with a stick. "You can change here and leave your clothes in Laila's bed, if you want? I'm going to change in the bathroom. If you need it, there's another one near the stairs." Aaron nods dumbly, watching as Jean closes the door and he can finally release a huge sigh that has been trapped in his chest.

_No pressure_. He thinks to himself while discarding his shirt and jeans, _Jean won't force you_. Aaron puts on the soft shirt and it feels like heaven, and also highlights how tall Jean is when it falls almost to his knees. Unfortunately the boyfriend shirt doesn't smell like Jean; but the lemony scent of fabric softener calms him all the same as he folds his clothes and places them on the bed.He takes a big breath and leaves the room so he can pee away tonight's beers. 

When he comes back, Jean is already laying under the covers, there’s soft light from the tasteful lampshade on the bedside table and a quiet song is coming from the speaker . He knows Jean can only sleep with music and a light on, hunting away the shadows of the Nest. 

Halfway through their friendship, they’d set up a joint Spotify account, with mismatched playlists for the day: angry, sad, happy and their favorite songs ever. By the sound of it, Jean chose the latter playlist; _Stairway to Heaven_ is coming from the speakers. Aaron shuffles under the covers, laying on his side and finding the Trojan wall of a pillow between them, then sighs in relief. "Tired?" Jean asks softly, running the back of his now naked fingers over the curve of Aaron's cheekbone.

"A bit yes, Marshall and Jeremy wore me out," Aaron replies, leaning in to let their foreheads touch. "You?"

"Me too, a bit." Jean says, rubbing their noses together while his knuckles trace the sharp angle of Aaron's jaw. "Shadowing Kevin the whole game can be exhausting." He tips Aaron's head up, planting a gentle kiss against his lips. "Both of us know too much about the way we play for it to be an easy task. You want to kiss a bit and see where it leads?"

"Hm, yes." Aaron hums, pressing their lips together. "No pressure, okay?" he asks, placing one of his hands over Jean's chest and feeling the steady thump of his heart. Thankfully,Jean smiles at him - first lesson of making out with Jean: do not get anyway near his throat, unless you want to ruin the making out and turn it into a full-blown panic attack.

"No pressure," Jean replies easily, his thumb playing with Aaron's bottom lip, "tell me if I do anything wrong." 

The first kiss is always tentative, a simple brush of lips that maps the mood for the night. It always starts with tiny presses, a whisper of a breath shared between them until someone is brave enough to part lips and let their tongues meet. It's not fireworks and sparks flying everywhere, it's the warmth of a lazy afternoon in the sun, the feeling of a warm blanket coming out of the dryer and draped around Aaron's shoulders. 

Jean tastes like toothpaste and mouthwash, completely ordinary, and smells of the same lemony scent that clings into the boyfriend shirt, mingled with some expensive cologne Aaron loves. He feels Jean's hand move from his face to his hair, scratching softly at his scalp, as they kiss as if they have all the time in the world. 

Which they do. They have all the time for themselves to pull apart and breathe and kiss again and again and again until they're pressed against each other with Aaron's hand sandwiched between their chests, feeling the two heartbeats out of sync. The pillow between them feels more like a nuisance than a blessing and he wants nothing but to pull it away and throw it on the floor. 

But before that, he has a decision to make. 

Aaron breathes as deeply as he can when Jean stops kissing him. "Jean?" The other backliner hums in return. "Can I hold your hands?"

"Uh, yes?" 

Aaron nods, holding Jean by the wrists and feeling the rough skin against his fingertips. He watches as Jean looks at him inquisitively while he moves their joined hands under his shirt until Jean's palms rest against the twin scars under his chest. 

"Aaron?"

"Remember when I talked about issues?" Aaron asks, feeling Jean’s calloused thumbs following the path of the scars, "I think it's time for us to discuss them." 

Jean hums, a noncommittal and careless sound that follows the maddening slow pace of his thumbs. "This is not an issue for me, in all honesty Aaron."

"But I don't… I have…" Jean stares at him, stormy eyes swallowed by black pupils, long fingers still tracing the scars with a sort of reverence Aaron has never felt.

"Do you have a problem with penetrative sex? Prefer topping? Would you like me to stop?" Aaron's mind stops spinning. Okay. Questions. He needs to answer them. He feels the sweat on his palms, making them clumsy against Jean's big hands.

"No. I don't have a problem with penetrative sex. I enjoy it," he says and Jean's thumbs seem to be magic, calming his heart rate at every swipe. "On both ends. But I don't think you can… uh… use the backdoor tonight? It might take some...Prepping." Jean snorts, and Aaron does too, feeling the tension bleed out from his body. "I didn't imagine we'd…" he sighs, trying to dispel all the nervous energy that has suddenly built up inside his body.

"What can I do to make this more comfortable for you?" Jean asks, and Aaron wants to punch him. Or maybe just pinch himself awake to realize he's not dreaming. Jean is real and it's quite frightening how gentle he is.

"Hm… Condoms? Lube? Uh… a towel in case… you know?" Jean smiles as an answer and dives for a short peck on his lips. "Are you really comfortable with...?" Aaron flounders, unable to finish the sentence.

"Aaron." He looks up, watching as Jean untangles himself from the bedsheets and Aaron's eyes fall directly on the outline of his cock, thick and clear tenting his sweats. "This won't go away because you think you're not meeting my expectations by not having a cock. Does the word bisexual means anything to you?" 

Aaron laughs, throwing one arm across his eyes and letting nearly all of the tension leave his body. Jean is frankly perfect and Aaron's not letting him go. He feels the mattress dip when Jean places a knee on it, just to kiss Aaron senselessly, until the last of the tension disappears. "Thank you" he says, staring at Jean's grey eyes.

"Save your thanks for when I blow your mind with the best orgasm you've ever had." 

Aaron laughs once more, using the Trojan wall pillow to swat at Jean as he picks up his wallet, fishing out some bills. "Damn cocky frenchman."

Jean chuckles, stopping by the door to stare at Aaron, taking a long sweep of his body, even if it's covered by the thin sheet. "Don't you know? Us french invented kissing. We're good with our tongues." He swats again at Jean, missing by a few millimeters. 

"Are you going out?"

"No, that's for the Lucky Pot." 

Aaron cocks his head to the side, prompting Jean to explain what the hell is a Lucky Pot. "Trojans' endless supply of condoms and lube. Leave a few dollars every time you take one." 

Aaron laughs at the absurdity of it, and also the practicality of having a supply of condoms and lube for an emergency whichyes, sounds wise. Jean disappears beyond the door as Aaron gets more comfortable in bed. He's been holding back with Jean, building up his walls anticipating rejection, but now the weight has lifted off his chest he can finally breathe right. 

He focuses on the room: the old rock songs coming from the speakers, the subdued light from the lampshade that's bright enough to cast away the shadows of the room, but not too bright so it won't interfere with his sleep. The whole room is tidy but cozy, Laila and Alvarez's side holds some stuffed toys while Jean's side has a calendar with important dates marked and a tiny octopus plushie sitting nearby the lampshade. The room doesn't look like it belongs amidst the Trojans' chaos, but it makes sense. In every tape he sees Laila and Jean as the calm in the middle of their energetic teammates.

Aaron only stops his musings when the door clicks closed and Jean approaches the bed, leaving a towel by the end of it and two packages of condom and lube by the cute purple octopus. "Feeling lucky?" he asks with a laugh and Jean blushes underneath the golden glow of the lampshade.

"Better be prepared," Jean says with a careless shru He begins to reconstruct the Trojan Wall but Aaron dismisses it with a shake of his head making room for Jean to sink back into the comfortable bed. They take a moment in near silence, staring into each other's eyes as The Doors starts coming from the tiny speakers. It's comfortable, laying side by side, letting their hands touch each other as they close the space between them fully for the first time and kiss with no hurry at all.

It feels like heaven. Jean’s hands are warm where he has placed them back under Aaron's shirt, tracing his muscles, making him shiver and release a tiny moan against Jean's mouth. He thinks he's a bit too much in love with Jean's hands, the way they feel big against his body, how his elegant fingers skim his scars again before they find his nipples and he has to suppress a shudder. 

"Everything's fine?" Jean asks, a tiny string of saliva still connecting their mouths.

"Yeah just…" Aaron feels another shudder wreck his body when the tip of his fingers tease his nipples. "I'm not usually that sensitive there." Jean nods, still touching gently the tiny nubs and making him shudder. 

"Want me to stop?" Jean asks, and Aaron shakes his head, enjoying fully each press and touch against his nipples. "Can I remove your shirt?" Aaron nods, and watches as Jean removes his own shirt first, baring his own scars at Aaron. He's been around people with plenty of scars-- Neil for example, but while Neil's scars are deliberate but mismatched, Jean's are precise, as if Riko was aiming for the maximum combination of destruction and pain. 

Aaron removes his own shirt, throwing it in the same direction as Jean's. His own scars seem infinitesimal near the wasteland of scarred skin. He knows they're both taking their time, mapping torsos with inquisitive stares and breathing in deeply before they meet for another kiss. Aaron ends up on his back, with Jean hovering above him, between his legs, both pressed together and Aaron shudders once more when he feels Jean's cock press firmly between his legs.

He moans into the kiss, his fingers grasping the bedsheets because he doesn't want to trigger anything by squeezing Jean's skin. "Where can I touch you?" Aaron asks, feeling Jean pant against his lips, their hips moving slowly to rub the wetness in his boxers against the bulge in Jean's pants.

"Uh? Oh," he places Aaron's arms around his shoulders, shivering when the tip of his fingers run over his spine. "Just don't pull my hair." Aaron nods, allowing one of his hands to run from Jean's nape to the edge of his hairline, scratching it softly, and Jean murmurs in pleasure.

He keeps up the soft scratches as they kiss lazily, one of Jean's forearms braced on the bed by Aaron's head while his free hand runs everywhere, from his hipbone to the small waist and finally back against his chest, pinching one nipple gently and making Aaron moan into the kiss once more. Jean moves from his mouth to trace his jawline with gentle kisses, following the curve of the bone until he meets his ear and starts to go down, placing more kisses against his pulse point until he reaches his clavicle.

It's hard not to sink his fingers into Jean's hair and direct him where to go, but he holds back, mostly running his fingers through the smooth black strands as Jean reaches the center of his chest. "Everything okay?"

"Yes," Aaron says, a little breathless, losing the ability to breathe even more when he stares at Jean's eyes.

"If you feel like stopping or if I do anything wrong please tell me." Jean is a fucking dream come true. He nods back at him, running his knuckles over Jean's cheekbone and effectively covering the ugly tattoo on it. "I mean it Aaron."

"So do I. Tell me to stop if you need to." Aaron closes his eyes and resumes his light caresses on Jean's scalp. He feels Jean kiss his sternum, a light press of lips preceding another pathway of kisses until he reaches a nipple. Both of Jean's hands are on his waist now, not holding him down, but pressing gently, slightly fumbling and uncoordinated in the circles he tries to draw with his thumbs over his hips. The first touch of his mouth against a nipple feels heavenly - he didn't know that could feel so… electric. Jean flattens his tongue, then sucks the nub into his mouth until his teeth can press against it, and Aaron holds back from tightening the fingers on his hair, instead he flattens his palm against his nape, cradling his head as he holds back the moans.

He's not very good at it though, they slip from his mouth at every random second, giving Jean the confidence he needs so his hands stop fumbling against his hip. Once Jean feels like he's had enough, he traces the scars with his lips until he gets to the other nipple and gives it the same gentle treatment. One of the hands on his hip slides lower, a fleeting touch against his thigh that makes Aaron shiver. "Too much?" Jean stops to ask and Aaron has to open his eyes and stare at the blown pupils. 

"No… I think I'm a bit too sensitive," he says, watching as Jean runs his palm fully against his thigh, playing with the edge of his boxer's leg. 

"Can I touch you?" 

Aaron is about to tell Jean that he's already touching him when reality crashes. He reads the italicized oh inside his brain and nods, closing his eyes and resting against the soft pillows. "You can stop me anytime." He nods again, finding solace in playing with Jean's hair as the man keeps on kissing his chest, then follows the path down to his stomach. Aaron tries his best not to jump when the hand on his thigh starts a slow crawl over the boxers stopping only when Jean’s thumb is tracing the outline of his clit. 

In the back of his mind he's still afraid he's not going to be accepted, but this wall falls too when he feels the content moan Jean whispers against his skin. Aaron takes a deep breath, rolling a strand of Jean's hair over and over on his fingers as Jean is infinitely patient with his exploration; he keeps rubbing his thumb against the hardened clit, going from root to tip then back and forth. Finally he clasps Aaron’s clit with his thumb and forefinger and pulls the hood back and forth, jerking him. 

He opens his eyes only to find Jean staring at him with his pupils still so blown the grey of his eyes are a thin ring around black pools, and Jean still smiles, gently as if he's not making Aaron positively drip in his boxers. "Everything still okay?"

"Yes," Aaron half moans, half says, one of his hands tracing a reverent path on Jean's face until the older backliner can kiss his knuckles. "You're patient. Attentive. I like it."

"I'm French and the French are good lovers." Aaron laughs, throwing one arm across his eyes and just… letting this floaty giddiness fill his whole body like helium. "Can I eat you out?"

"Yes." Aaron is surprised how energetic he sounds about it, but honestly, Jean has been proving himself over and over to be the most attentive, caring and amazing lover he's had in years. It takes a bit of maneuvering to remove his boxers, lift his hips, place the towel-- and a whole lot of blushing from Aaron's part when he feels Jean's big hands holding his thighs spread open.

He watches as Jean kisses the inside of his thighs before he approaches his clit, smooth lips closing over it and Aaron moans. He's not much in the habit of paying close attention to someone going down on him, but with Jean moaning and making him shiver, Aaron has to fight to keep his eyes open and watch as Jean starts to take him apart.

Jean sucks him lightly, humming against his clit as he bobs his head slowly-- it's sweet, gentle and Aaron has to pull away the silky black strands of Jean's hair to watch his expression. Jean looks blissed out, moaning low in his throat while his closed eyes make him look peaceful as he sucks Aaron off. He relaxes against the covers, running his fingers over and over his jet black hair as Jean finally moves his tongue and makes him whimper.

"Good?" Jean asks against his clit, kissing the side of it reverently. Aaron nods a yes, pressing lightly on Jean's head in encouragement to continue."Impatient," Jean chuckles.

"Put your money where your mouth is, cocky Frenchman." 

Aaron watches as Jean holds his stare, lowering his head slowly until his clit is resting over Jean's tongue. Jean closes his lips, going back to sucking Aaron off while his tongue moves in tiny swipes, teasing the sensitive underside of his clit and making him moan out loud. Jean keeps his movements maddening gentle and slow, almost as if he's stroking a low fire in Aaron's belly by teasing him with such softness and dedication.

It feels perfect. Aaron closes his eyes, relaxing back against the bedsheets as he keeps on running his fingers over Jean's hair, teasing the strands as Jean sucks him off. His legs tremble when Jean hollows his cheeks, putting more pressure against his clit and making him moan out loud. "Jean…"

Jean hums, pulling back enough to leave just the tip of Aaron's clit inside his mouth and allows his tongue to flick against the sensitive head quickly, making Aaron whimper and curl his legs around his head. "Fuck Jean…" Jean pulls away, his chin and mouth glistening. 

"Yes Aaron?"

"Fuck, you're good at this." Aaron says breathlessly, trying to rearrange his limbs and take in enough air to make his brain come back. "Fucking French." Jean laughs at him, finally moving one of his big hands away from Aaron's thighs and running his index finger along his wet folds. Aaron shudders, another moan escaping from his mouth without his permission. 

"Can I finger you?"

Aaron nods, pulling Jean for a heated kiss. He never liked his own taste, but on Jean's swollen lips it tastes amazing. "Yes… You don't need to ask permission for everything you know?" he says, breathing against Jean's mouth.

"I like consent." He answers simply, running his hand over Aaron's thigh. "I like knowing that we'll have no surprises and ruin this." Jean presses their lips together once more, his finger dancing over Aaron's slit until he slides it to the first knuckle. Despite the clear request, it's a surprise and Aaron bites Jean's lip, laughter bubbling from his mouth while Jean kisses him. 

"Fine. You can finger me as long as you put your mouth to use again." He feels Jean humming against his lips, parting them for another deep and long kiss as he moves his finger slowly inside Aaron, pushing it until it's all the way in and then out. Aaron feels himself relaxing even more-- to be honest tonight is the first time in years where he didn't tense once. 

He moans against Jean's lips when the second long finger presses in. "Still good?"

"Still good," Aaron mutters, relaxing around Jean's impossibly long fingers inside him. "It's been a while, just that."

"Want me to go slower?" 

He shakes his head, letting his forehead rest against Jean's as they share the air between them. "No, it's nice." It’s actually not particularly arousing, rather a relaxing push and pull, more like the movement is directed to make him unwind and sink more into the mattress as Jean kisses him until his lips are numb. "Anytime now, Jean. Or French people always extremely slow?" Aaron asks, feeling Jean laughing against his lips in response.

"I'm trying to make it last."

Aaron grunts when Jean curls his fingers inside him, adding some much needed pressure to the slow strokes. "Make it last with your mouth. I was enjoying that."

"Bossy american," Jean says, dragging his lips from Aaron's mouth to suck a spot near his pulse point. His fingers move faster, making Aaron moan lowly and push his hips against Jean's hand. "I was looking for some responsiveness."

Aaron snorts, then bucks his hips when Jean traces a circle against the tip of his clit. He's still going painstakingly slow, tracing Aaron's body with his lips, sucking his nipples, running his free hand over the thin hairs on his stomach… No matter how much Aaron pushes his hips against the fingers curling inside him, Jean keeps teasing.

Which is also good. He won't ever admit to Jean he's enjoying the drawn out worship-- the body he's doubted so many times is being mapped, loved… And he thinks Jean needs it too, he still doesn't know the issues Jean talked about, but he will hold back, have this conversation later when the time comes.

His train of thought stops when Jean's breath finally hits his hardened clit, and the slow lick that follows makes Aaron moan loudly. His fingers scramble, trying to find purchase on the sheets. "Jean, can I keep touching your hair?" Jean hums as an answer and his hands go straight for the black locks, holding on to them without pulling. "Good?" Jean hums again, making Aaron moan as he licks him slit to clit. 

It feels like Jean is done playing slow with him when he finally moves his fingers harder, sucking and tonguing his clit with more energy than before. Aaron does his best not to close his legs around Jean's head or pull his hair, but it gets increasingly difficult when he uses his thumb to pull back the hood, exposing the sensitive head to the warmth of his tongue and he comes loose not long after. It's fireworks and oversensitivity commanding his body, clenching around the fingers and moving his hips, rubbing his whole pussy against Jean's eager lips, the wetness of his come and squirt dripping down Jean's chin and making him moan as he keeps the pressure, drawing out Aaron's orgasm for as long as it takes until he pulls his hips back with a whimper.

Jean stops moving immediately, stilling his fingers inside Aaron and laying his head against his thigh, the soft breath coming from Jean's mouth teasing the hairs on this leg, making Aaron shudder. 

"Fuck," is allAaron manages after a few beats of silence, feeling himself clenching and unclenching around the fingers still inside him. "Jean." 

Aaron feels him moving, the fingers slipping out of him and being dragged over the towel near his hip as Jean leans in to kiss Aaron with the same hunger as before. "Good?" Jean asks against his lips, putting a respectful distance between their hips as they kiss-- and Aaron wants none of that, the orgasm, instead of taking the edge off, made him more wanton, eager to pull from Jean the same moans he just released into the confined space of the bedroom.

"Mind blowing," he replies, licking his own taste from Jean's mouth. Aaron's hand moves slowly, from Jean's shoulder to his defined stomach and down to play with the drawstring of his sweats. "Let me touch you?" Jean nods, and Aaron doesn't miss the chance to push his palm inside Jean's sweats so he can close his hand around Jean's cock. It feels heavy, warm and so perfect between his fingers. "What are the boundaries here Jean? Give me something to work with," he asks, keeping the strokes slow and soft.

"Cock and balls are fine, just don't… squeeze too hard," Jean breathes, and Aaron shoves his other hand along, playing slowly with Jean's balls and making him moan. He sees the trembling in his arms and uses a light pressure, mapping him the same way Jean did. "Don't touch my ass." Aaron rubs one finger against the slit of Jean's cock, spreading precum and making him buckle against his hand. "Don't like being underneath."

"So I can't ride you?" Aaron asks, biting Jean's lips as he pulls his own hand away to drag it over his pussy, using some of his wetness to ease the strokes. He focuses on the way Jean takes a deep breath every time he pulls the foreskin back and runs his fingers over the head. 

"If I'm sitting with my back against the headboard it’s fine." Jean says, dropping his forehead to rest against Aaron's. 

"Can you sit and remove your pants Jean? I really, really want to ride you."

"What's wrong with doing it like this?" Jean asks softly, grunting against Aaron's lips as he reaches a sensitive spot in a single stroke.

"Ugh I feel like a Thanksgiving Turkey?" Aaron says and the moan leaving Jean's lips turns into a laughter. "What? I'm serious!" Jean can't seem to stop laughing and Aaron releases his cock to shove him a bit to the side. "And on fours… It's not very French romantic right?" Jean is still laughing when he falls to the side, squinting at Aaron while his whole face is nothing but bliss and happiness. 

"Fine," he says at last, pushing his pants down and giving Aaron the unobstructed view of his cock. "But riding is very… American." Aaron grins, reaching out for the condom and rolling it over Jean's cock, marveling when the latex stretches around it and Jean's hips buckle when Aaron pours the lube from one packet over it. "Come on cowboy, I'm not gonna last long."

Aaron snorts, bracketing Jean's legs with his own as he slowly sits on his cock. "Fuck…" Jean kisses his moans away, rubbing his hands softly against Aaron's trembling thighs until he's fully inside. 

"Fuck." Aaron replies dumbly, leaning his head against Jean's collarbones and taking a moment to enjoy how full he feels when Jean is all the way inside him. "Are you going to tell me that French people also invented huge cocks?"

Jean laughs as he leans up to kiss Aaron until he relaxes around his cock. "No, I'm special like that." Jean says finally and Aaron laughs, curling one of their hands together. "Everything fine?"

"Just give me a moment, I think you're poking my pancreas." 

They both laugh again and it's surreal. Like everything that happened from the first moment Jean kissed him, Aaron has never had so much goddamn fun when having sex with someone. It had always been quick, dirty and messy. But with Jean it's been slow, gentle, unbelievably soft and _fun_. He revels on the bubbling feeling in his stomach, the way Jean uses his free hand to trace the contours of his face, how Jean seems infinitely patient with him and how every tension in his body gets forgotten in favor of the warm pleasure. "Okay I think we're good." 

Jean nods at him, tightening their fingers together as Aaron lifts his hips enough so just the head of Jean's cock is inside and he sinks again, slowly, letting their moans melt into the songs coming from the speakers. He's still sensitive from the orgasm and he knows his thighs will burn halfway through it, but still he perseveres. Not only because Jean feels amazing, filling him and twitching at each press, or because Jean is a good partner and keeps meeting him halfway with slow gentle thrusts, or because Jean is giving him the filthiest most delicious kiss he's ever had while holding on to his hip; but because he loves swallowing the moans straight out of Jean's mouth, he loves the tiny twitches and grunts, he loves the way he tightens their fingers together, the way Jean's huge hand can hold his whole hip.

Essentially,e he feels like Jean and him are two pieces of the same puzzle that, somehow, by fate, ended up fitting together. Aaron pulls away from the kiss, panting against Jean's lips as the sounds of their thighs slapping get louder. "Jean," Aaron grumbles into his mouth, feeling him let go of his hips and hand to reach out for the second packet of lube. He stops riding, content with grinding and feeling Jean twitch inside him, "what are you doing?"

"Getting more lube?" Jean asks, squeezing the whole thing in one of his hands and reaching out to rub his slick fingers against Aaron's clit. "You know," he taps it softly twice, making Aaron shudder. "This bad boy here is responsible for a lot of pleasure - you don't want to leave it unattended."

Aaron doesn't suppress the urge to roll his eyes and Jean chuckles. He's about to say something when Jean snaps his hips up, making the words that were ready to spill from his mouth turn into a long moan. "Fuck." He places his hands on Jean's shoulders, finding a new easy rhythm for both of them. It's not the quick pace as before, but something drawn out, that allows them to kiss at length and Jean to rub his thumb across Aaron's clit, making him moan.

Jean uses that to pick up the pace, fucking Aaron until he's coming undone, clenching around his cock as he chants Jean's name again and again against his lips like a broken prayer. "Jean," he whines, feeling Jean ease the pressure against his clit to place both hands on his hips and practically bounce Aaron on his lap. Aaron keeps the broken moans coming, biting Jean's lips, running his fingers over the high cheekbones, watching as Jean's blue eyes become hazy while he thrusts inside to the edge of oversensitivity. 

Aaron hears his own name coming from Jean's lips as he stills inside him, pressing their bodies so close Aaron feels like he can melt into Jean while he pulses inside him. "Fuck, Aaron."

"You just did," Aaron replies, pressing their lips together, roaming his hands over Jean's chest and feeling his heartbeat and the quick intake of air in his lungs. 

"Hmm," is what Jean manages to say. He looks blissed out, panting against Aaron's cheek, kissing his forehead, closing his arms around his waist and bringing him impossibly closer. Aaron runs his hands over Jean's abs, feeling them flutter. "Mind blowing."

Aaron laughs and Jean laughs along. 

Fuck.

He loves the way Jean’s eyes crinkle and the timbre of his voice. And the way his hands are cradling Aaron's back so softly. He really wants to say something, but for the first time in a while, Aaron is content to just bask in the warmth of Jean's body and get lost in the small expedition of his fingers over the freckles and moles of his back. Sometimes Jean pulls his fringe back, kissing the small burst of freckles across his nose and pressing their lips together. "Not that I don't enjoy this cuddle session but do you want to get up? If I remember correctly, I was poking your pancreas."

Aaron snorts, gingerly moving with a grunt until he feels Jean's cock slip out with a wet sound. "Urgh, do you have some wet wipes?" Jean laughs at him, laying Aaron on the towel and getting up from bed. The half light of the lampshade doesn't lie:

On Jean's cute pale butt there's a dime sized tattoo of the Trojans' helm. 

He blinks once, then twice, then hovers his hand near it. "Are you kidding?" Jean turns around looking at Aaron and the path he was looking at. "You have a Trojan tattoo on your…"

"On my butt yes." He watches as Jean pulls off the condom, tying it and throwing it on the garbage can before he invades Laila and Alvarez's space, picking up a can of wet wipes. "Every Trojan is asked if they want to get one. Some get big meaningful pieces. Some get drunk with Jeremy and Alvarez and get a tiny helm on their butts."

"So Jeremy also has…"

"Yes." Aaron grimaces while trying to get rid of all the lube and come from between his legs, creating an impressive pile along with Jean. "You don't want to take a shower?"

He works his own leg, feeling the muscles on his thigh burn in protest. "Yes I want to, but no, I can't. Playing tonight and riding you was a bit too much." Aaron flops on the bed, starfishing while Jean fixes the room. 

"Was it worth it?" Jean asks, throwing everything away into the nearby bin and putting the damn boyfriend shirt on top of Aaron as he pulls his sweats back on.

"Hmmm, you could improve. For starters you should let me take more care of you." He puts on the boyfriend shirt, chucking the wet towel to the floor and arranging his limbs with Jean in bed. Aaron ends up with one leg thrown over Jean's, his head tucked neatly over his arm and Jean's stupid big hand on his hair.

"Not used to it," Jean hums, turning on his phone to play some sudoku. "I'm still learning to deal with people touching me. I think now it will be easier." Aaron hums back, his fingers dancing across Jean's stomach. He doesn't avoid the scars, lets his fingers trace the marks, the naked skin and the bruises that come from the impact against their protective gear, and Jean continues, "You're easier to deal with? To tolerate? To something…. I dunno what than everyone else."

"Seven, middle row, third column."

Jean laughs, cuddling Aaron closer as they bicker over sudoku. It's nice, nicer than winning, nicer than drugs-- this feeling of finally finding somewhere he's completely comfortable. They also bicker over the music, Jean is vocal about no EDM before bed and Aaron vetoes a podcast about sports, finally they run across a Gothic Folk playlist and end up playing it just for kicks. That's around the time where the Trojans start to trickle in, drunk on their victory and the copious amount of alcohol they’ve consumed. Their laughter is loud, lighting up the house with happiness and too many yellow lights. 

Jeremy comes in after knocking and pushing the door and Aaron does his best to hide the full blush that covers his face. The room still smells like sex, but the Trojans' captain doesn't care, tiptoeing into the room to kiss Jean's forehead and babble softly to him as if he was a spooked animal. At the door frame, he sees Kevin cringing and lifting one eyebrow, looking equal parts protective and proud.

"We have to be at the airport by two," he says.

"Better take Jeremy to the bedroom now then." Aaron wriggles his eyebrows and Kevin releases a soft huff. He's almost sure they're both too tired, but Kevin looks at Jeremy with the same fond look he gives Jean.

"Night night Aaron." Jeremy says with a smile as he closes the door, looking far too sober for someone who drank so much alcohol.

"Night Jeremy, Kevin," he says at last, finding a comfortable place on Jean's chest and closing his eyes. Aaron feels Jean relaxing after he locks his phone. "By the way, where are you spending the summer?"

Jean hums, pulling a light cover over their bodies. "Not sure."

"Let's go somewhere then. Kevin is going to put up with his in-laws, Nicky is going to Germany and I refuse to stay in the same house as Andrew and Josten." He hears Jean's laughter, warm and sleepy. 

"Sure. We can find somewhere to go."

Aaron smiles, feeling Jean's arms tighten around him as he whispers something in French. 

He can get used to that.

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes I [tweet](https://twitter.com/dogintheboiler)


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